


Swan Song

by orphan_account



Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: Gen, Memory Related, Mystery, Neurological Disorders, Psychological Torture, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:16:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Hojoon's legacy lives on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swan Song

****_Dear Diary,_

By the time anyone finds this, I'm already dead. No, I'm serious. I don't have much time left, and all I want is someone to listen to my story.

My name is Jeon Hojoon, and I'm an opera singer. I debuted just before the turn of the new century, and I've been in the industry for more than 15 years. I don't want to brag, but the media—and pretty much the public—has labelled me the most successful Korean artist of the genre, ever since Jo Sumi passed away a couple of years ago. It sounds like life cruelly snatched the title away from her to give it to me, but that's how things work in entertainment—whenever an icon dies, a new one is immediately assigned to replace them. Some people think it's a rather heartless concept, but the show must go on, right?

Anyway. My day-to-day life involves performances in front of hundreds of thousands of spectators, from singing in front of the President and our country's First Lady at the Blue House, to holding sold-out shows at prestigious grand theatres like Italy's La Scala. I really like singing, and I suppose the money and fame that come with it are not too bad. I was able to buy an apartment for my parents and our family's BBQ restaurant has several successful branches all over the country.

Two years ago, I went to Japan. It was supposed to be a short break to get away from everything—plus the CEO told me it was about time I pulled the brake on things after years of full schedules and no rest. I agreed and booked the first flight out of the country, accompanied by my manager Yoonchul and another artist from our company I'm close to, Sangdo. It was supposed to be a casual ski trip.

I think my luck ran out right then.

At the ski resort, I accidentally broke an amulet belonging to this Japanese person who turned out to be a shaman. And, call me crazy or whatever, I think he cursed me. I remember Yoonchul apologising to him and he muttered something, and my Japanese wasn't good enough to understand it. Then he left, smiling at me like nothing happened but he must've muttered a curse... because the next day I went skiing I crashed into a tree on a steep hill and I was unconscious for two full days, Sangdo told me. It was awful and strange since I am normally good at skiing, but I didn't remember anything during. The doctor said I didn't have visible head injuries, but I started getting horrible headaches for about two weeks. I was prescribed medication for this, and they did go away eventually.

But that's where it all began.

I saw him in Korea.

No, it couldn't have been a mistake, I _know_ it was him. I recognised his face when he was standing outside a tree, staring at me as I was trying out clothes inside a shop. It was creepy, and his bloodshot eyes stared right into my soul. It was almost like he didn't blink at all, and he didn't even flinch at every gesture I made. And god, the smile. The same smile he gave me in Japan, right after he cursed me. It made me very uncomfortable so I quickly left, and as I looked back, I saw him, still on the same spot, his gaze following my every move.

From then on, I'd start seeing him at random places, including my favourite hangout spots. Hell, I even caught him outside the studio once. But whenever I got out of the building to confront him, he'd always disappear. Without a trace. And it was like he was never there to begin with. It was very unnerving, and I immediately realised something was wrong. Others said it was probably stress... of course no one would believe me. After all, I was always too tired from schedules that sometimes they joked that I faked my age and am not as old as I say I am.

This went on for a month before I couldn't take it anymore and decided to see another doctor. He said my paranoia and hallucinations were largely due to stress. Then came the trivial suggestions: No smoking, no strenuous activity, get enough sleep. I assure you, Korean doctors earn so much for things that can be figured out by mere common sense. I didn't trust him so I asked for medication but he said I wasn't at a stage where he'd deem it necessary.

He was _wrong._

I even dreamed of the shaman. In my dreams, he was always chasing after me, trying to kill me. I recall one where he suddenly leaped from my own shadow and choked me to death. The feeling of all air sucked out of you, and seeing total darkness fill your vision just before you died... it was an absolute nightmare! There were a couple of nights where I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought he was standing next to my bed, watching me relentlessly as I was sleeping. With that smile. Or when I woke up because I would feel a figure sleeping next to me and when I touched the sheets, they were warm as if someone had just been laying there seconds before I blinked my eyes open. God, I am shivering just typing this.

The dumb doctor finally agreed to prescribed me chlorpromazine, but it seemed to make things worse. The shaman started to appear in my workplace. Disguised. As the people I know. How was I so sure of this? Because something was off whenever I saw their faces. They'd look at me with that eerie smile. An identical smile, on every single one of them. It was like being stuck in a shop full of dolls. Very lifelike dolls, very much like the one in that horror movie _The Conjuring_. The smiles are permanent, as if someone sewed those onto their faces. And when I talked to them, they'd reply in a singsong voice, unaffected by any emotion whatsoever, even if I was yelling at them or if I showed signs of being upset.

I couldn't trust anyone. No, not even Sangdo and Yoonchul. The shaman got to them, too. I have no fucking idea how he did it, but he is very elaborate in his method as he is able to imitate even their gestures and habits. Like how Sangdo always ruffles my hair after I ask him for advice, or like how Nakta always bites his thumb when nervous. They look like Sangdo and Yoonchul, but they're not Sangdo and Yoonchul! He knows how to get to me, to break my composure, to get his revenge after I broke his stupid amulet. But he can't fool me. I know that no matter how elaborate his tricks are, I'll always be one step ahead.

You need to know that I was never at peace. He disguised as the CEO to get me to stop recording songs and retire, but he should know that I would never give him the satisfaction. So I started acting out. I'd throw fits and wreck half the studio to show him that I still have the upper hand. He showed no reaction, just smiling as he usually does. And when he finally got ahold of the doctor, I threw all my meds away. If he thought he could poison me, he was mistaken.

So here I am. A few days into my solitary confinement because I couldn't go to work anymore. Don't be mistaken, I'm not retired. I'm just hiding here so he couldn't get me at work, and until I can figure out a way to get rid of him for good, I'll stay here. I've even bought months' supply of food so I wouldn't need to take a step out of my house. My mother gave me a Buddhist rosary to help me cope, and since my family is still safe, they're pretty much the only people I can communicate with right now. But I know he'll find them, too. He won't give up at anything.

The door is locked. The windows are not, but only because I have the mosquito net on the outside. I'm trying hard not to fall asleep so I don't have to encounter him in my dreams again. My head is hurting and I feel like I am going to vomit at any second. I am very exhausted, but I am writing this entry because I need to warn others about the shaman and like I said, time is running out. He only disguises as the people I know so hopefully when the police finds this, they'll be aware of the details of the events leading up to my death.

I can hear knocking.

I know it's him.

I have to get ready.

I have to escape.

***

The door opens slowly, revealing a man of medium height, with dark brown hair and wispy bangs, wearing a tan trenchcoat. He lets out a soft sigh, one hand buried in his pocket and another rubbing the point between his eyebrows. He looks very tired, as if he's had a very long day. Not far away from him, a lean, unusually tall man with thick eyebrows and a serious expression calls out his name to grab his attention.

"Sangdo." He walks over to him. "What did they say?"

"Fregoli." Sangdo's nose wrinkles up at the foreign word. "A classic example of delusional misidentification syndromes."

The other makes a small grunt, looking perplexed. "Do explain."

"I was told that it's some kind of delusion that makes an individual believe that the people around them are actually one person in disguise. I don't know, there were a lot of difficult terms I didn't understand." Sangdo motions for them to start walking. "After reading the diary, they concluded that Hojoon was suffering from that."

"Ah... he became rather violent too, didn't he? I'm guessing it's one of the symptoms too?"

Sangdo nods. The two of them make their way out of the building, police officers smiling at them warmly once they realise who the two are. At the end of the steps, a sleek, BMW car is waiting.

"Yoonchul, can you tell Producer Kim I'll take the finished songs and record them tomorrow?" he asks. "Tell him I absolutely don't want even a tiny bit of Hojoon's vocals left in the MR."

Nodding, the tall man walks him to the car. "Sure. I'll get to it first thing this evening."

Sangdo's lips slowly curve into an evil smirk. All that effort tampering with Hojoon's medications paid off. _Thank you, Hojoon, I'll make sure I continue your legacy well_ , he thinks to himself. _They'll remember you as is a singer who died because he couldn't handle his own delusions._ _And for you to jump out of the window as soon I walked in... hah! How pitiful._ Yoonchul opens the back door for him without a word, and he steps into the car with a determined expression. "I'll see you later. Let me know how it goes with Producer Kim."

As the figure of Yoonchul giving him a wave slowly fades into the distance, he takes out his phone. _50 messages._ It's hard to be popular—you're constantly busy and there are always people looking for you. _Better get used to it when it worsens later._ He continues scrolling through the messages, skimming some and intently reading the others.

"Shall we put music on?" his driver asks.

"Yeah, whatever," Sangdo says lightly. The driver has a habit of driving while listening to music, so he couldn't care less. _Besides, it takes about an hour to Uijeongbu in this horrible traffic._

Suddenly he freezes when he recognises the instrumental playing from the radio. His eyes widen as he looks up from his phone; it's Hojoon's debut song, 'Night Painting'. "Change the song," he says coldly, trying to ignore the all-too-familiar tune that sounds grating to his ears. He knows the song very well—he knows every pitch and every progression by heart—since he has practiced them for years.

The driver does as he was told, but as soon as he switches the channel, another Hojoon song—this time his biggest hit, 'Tears of Kwangju', which won him many awards—plays, to Sangdo's frustration. "I don't want to listen to him!" Sangdo yells, not wanting to admit that he's starting to feel a cold sensation on the back of his neck. "Change it to the news or something."

"But—"

"But _what_?"

"I can't change it!" the driver cries in panic. "The button is jammed."

Sangdo can hear his own heart beating rapidly and roars, "Turn it off!" All the colours drain from his face as he watches the driver repeatedly press on the on/off button, to no avail. The melancholy mood of the song is starting to make him very uncomfortable, and Hojoon's tenor voice sounds more haunting and depressing than somber.

And the lyrics.

 _After you betray me, Kwangju sheds lonely tears_  
_and those tears turn into diamonds  
_ _and those diamonds cover the entire city in blood..._

The last thing Sangdo sees is a flash of headlights, followed by a honking noise, and everything turns white.

 _Those diamonds cover the entire city in blood  
_ _Whose blood do you think it belongs to?_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Topp Dogg fic to ever be published online. Since the boys are on hiatus, I've had a lot--both finished and unfinished--piling up in my folder so I thought I'd start posting them (maybe by the time they're all up, the boys will actually come back? hahaha). Anyway, I love psychological stories and twists so I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Thank you dreaminginside for beta-ing❤️
> 
> Kudos & comments are much appreciated!


End file.
